


This World Is Only Gonna Break Your Heart

by MissMoochy



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Spider-Gwen (Comics)
Genre: Dark Matt Murdock, Dark!Matt, Earth-65, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Matt Murderdock - Freeform, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson at Columbia, POV Foggy Nelson, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Roommates, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27951155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Having Matt Murdock for a friend can be handy.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	This World Is Only Gonna Break Your Heart

Matt likes games. Foggy’s seen him in class, in debates. The way he stands, pushes back his chair and smiles, before unleashing vicious arguments that make his opponent stutter and lose. Matt likes games but only if he wins.

Matt’s blind but he’s not as blind as he pretends. When they’re in public, he walks across campus with his hand curled around Foggy’s bicep, fingers digging in. No matter if Foggy’s wearing a thin windbreaker or a thick, fluffy sweater, Matt’s slim fingers seem to worm through the material and clamp down on his skin. He stands close, his hip sometimes brushes Foggy’s as they walk.

People have made comments about them. Stupid frat boys who don’t understand... But in moments like those, Matt jerks his head up, his brows a harsh line across his smooth, pale forehead and his lips thinned so much that they look like a faint white scar across his face. And Foggy will know something is coming. An ‘accidental’ sweep of his cane or a kick with his boot, and then insincere apologies and fluttering, ineffectual hands, the blind guy shtick. When a classmate shoved past them on the stairs, Matt kicked him. Sure, people assumed it was a case of Derek rushing, his trailing shoelaces were the only culprit. But Foggy had been close, too close. And he’d seen Matt stick one black boot in the way, just for a second, just long enough for Derek to slip.

He was fine. A few weeks in hospital and he was… he was okay.

But when it’s just the two of them, holed up in their dorm room, the mask slips. Matt can’t keep up the illusion for that long or perhaps he doesn’t want to. Perhaps he’s decided to take Foggy into his confidence, let him peek behind the veil. He navigates the dorm with unerring confidence, steps around furniture, kicks strewn clothing out of his way. Foggy had tried to accommodate him at first, keep things neat but now, there doesn’t seem to be any point. Matt is far better at sensing obstacles than Foggy was.

But he never could have guessed at the range of Matt’s powers.

* * *

“What were you doing on Thursday night?” Matt doesn’t look up from his braille textbook, his fingers steadily brushing the page, but his head has cocked a fraction to the left, awaiting an answer.

Foggy glances up from his own book, his mind mentally flipping through the days of studying and class, nights of house parties and cram sessions with Marci. “I was…with Marci. Studying.” His heart thumps in his chest but this is ridiculous, it’s not like Matt would know what he was really doing, there’s no way he could check. And if he did know? Why would it matter? They’re not… They’re just roommates.

“Marci.” Matt says. “Studying. Okay.”

Foggy waits a few seconds but Matt turns a page, says nothing more on the matter so Foggy returns to his book, albeit, feeling a little unsettled. The evening passes without event and Foggy thinks he may have gotten away with that one.

* * *

“Foggy,” Matt’s voice, low and insistent, breaks through the haze of sleep. Foggy groans, stirs in his warm cocoon of blankets and pillows, gropes around on the nightstand for the alarm clock.

“Jesus, Matt, what time is it? Holy shit!”

Because Matt is standing right over him, white and ghostly in the dim room. “You lied to me.”

“Matt, it’s late, we got class in the morning—” but Matt ignores him, climbs right on the bed, bringing his face very close to his. Sour, sleep breath wafts down on him and he cringes, but Matt’s got a hand on either side of the pillow, locking him in.

“You weren’t with Marci. You were with a _man._ ”

Fear pools in his belly but he’s still somewhat slowed down and sluggish from sleep, so he blearily blinks up at Matt and does something stupid: he lies.

“I wasn’t! Why would I be with a man? I was with Marci— you can ask her—”

“Don’t lie to me! Not to _me,_ ” Matt hisses, and one hand crawls up to grip Foggy’s throat. Hard fingers knead the flesh of his neck, the underside of his chin and he gasps.

“I _smelt_ him on you. Why didn’t you tell me you were with a man?”

“I — I don’t—”

Matt takes a huge breath, one that makes the mattress shake, and Foggy gets the impression that he’s trying very, very hard to be very, very calm. “How about we play a game, roommate? I’ll ask you questions and you answer them. And I’ll tell you if you’re telling the truth. First question: this man you met up with — do I know him?”

Lie, for God’s sake, lie. “N-no.”

Matt cocks his head. “Lie,” he says, and taps Foggy’s chest. But at least his hand isn’t locked around Foggy’s jaw anymore. “So it _is_ somebody I know. Question 2: is it a classmate of ours?”

“No.” Foggy’s voice is surer now but Matt grins, a wolfish sliver of white.

“That’s another lie. Who could it be? There was…hmm, let me think… There was a man you were speaking to, on Monday. I was in the cafeteria and I could hear you on the grounds outside, you were talking to…somebody.” He goes quiet for several seconds and then he nods. “Aiden Bird.” And Foggy’s heart sinks. “I knew it. Well. First Marci, now him. You _do_ get around.”

“Don’t do anything to him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Foggy tells him urgently, and Matt sighs.

“You’re tired. Go to sleep, Foggy.”

The bed creaks as Matt climbs off it, and then his footsteps as he makes his way over to his own bed.

* * *

Marci and Foggy are strictly not-a-thing and she has no reservations about him exploring other options. He goes on two more dates with Aiden, and on the fourth one, Aiden invites him to his dorm. Says his roommate is away for the night, they’ve got the place to themselves.

* * *

It’s midnight when Foggy makes it back to his dorm. He’s been trying not to cry the whole walk, but he thinks a few tears might have slipped out as he crossed campus, but they instantly froze on his face in the cold air. It’ll be Christmas break soon. He thinks of Hell’s Kitchen, tiny, warren-like streets, his mother’s cooking, warm hugs and lie-ins. He wants to be there already.

The lights are off and Matt’s blankets are a vague lump on his bed, and Foggy sighs in relief. He doesn’t think he could handle Murdock right now. Those sharp fingers and that cruel, cutting voice. Needling the flesh, Matt has a way of getting into everything. He already feels empty, like a toy that’s had its stuffing scooped out.

He crawls into bed, flings the covers over him to block out the ambient sounds of their neighbours and laughing, tipsy students outside. His pillow soon heats up under his flushed face and tears slip down his nose.

But then, the covers are ripped off him and he’s plunged into chaos, that awful, jagged face and hard eyes. Matt glowers, his body prickling with tension, as if he’s been zapped with bolts of electricity and he’s trying not to short-circuit.

“What did he do? WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?”

And Foggy. Breaks. Shatters like glass. His noisy sobs explode in the air, his throat makes wet gurgles and he shakes, tries to stop the noise, wishes he could bury it deep inside but it’s not deep enough and even if he was crying on the inside, Matt would still hear it, could smell it — can he smell Foggy’s tears?

Matt reaches for him and it’s not really a hug, it’s tight, lung-crunching pressure but it keeps Foggy together, makes him feel like maybe his guts won’t spill out of his body. He sits there, arms limp at his sides as Matt clasps him.

“I don’t wanna see him again…” Foggy mumbles in Matt’s neck, his lips prickled by rough stubble. Matt nods, and rakes fingers through Foggy’s hair, snagging on tangles.

“I’ll fix it.” he promises and he sounds so sure that Foggy tries to trick himself into believing that it’ll turn out alright. Matt will report him, or get him expelled and Foggy will never have to look at that sneering,face ever again.

He’s not sure when he fell asleep, but all he knows is that when he wakes up again, it’s the morning and Matt isn’t there.

Aiden isn’t in class. He isn’t in the cafeteria either. Neither is Matt.

* * *

When Foggy returns to his dorm, Matt is perched on the end of his bed, scrubbing at his fingers with a nailbrush. “Told you I’d fix it.” he says lightly, and all Foggy can do is stare.


End file.
